


What Pointy Ears You Have!

by solasharel



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Multi, Skyhold, Tavern, drunken fun, late night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-28 01:45:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2714363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solasharel/pseuds/solasharel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another drunken night at the tavern; Dorian guides a drunk Lavellan back to Solas' quarters at her request, leaving him to take care of her and her silly questions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Pointy Ears You Have!

Solas could hear Lavellan long before the door of his small cloister smacked open. Heavy footfall and giggling had paraded its way from the tavern through the courtyard before echoing around the main hall of Skyhold Castle.   
"Maker's Tits it's cold outside," flustered Dorian, propping up the barely conscious Inquisitor. Solas eyed them both and found it hard to tell whether the pink cheeks were from the weather or the drink, groaning as Lavellan let out another chuckle.  
"Heh... tits. You shems have such strange words." She cackled, her hand reaching out to pat Dorian's hair and missing by a wide margin. Dorian and Solas dragged her to the chaise and laid her out. She would regret this by sunrise, Solas thought.  
"Another rousing game of Wicked Grace, I take it?" Solas enquired.  
"I'll say - if you ever wanted to know who had a third nipple between Iron Bull or Sera, that was your chance!" Dorian chuckled again at the vision from earlier that evening, and Lavellan joined in with a chorus of "WHEEEY!"s.   
"Ahem, the Inquisi-quisitor insisted on seeing you, you lucky chap. Something about important mind-think, I believe she put it. I'll leave you both to it. I've got a bed collapse on." With that Dorian shuffled up the stairs toward the library.  
Solas sighed, weary and almost amused at the sight of the great leader of the Inquisition sprawled out over his seating space, humming to herself contentedly and dancing her fingers through the air. He turned back to his work, the low tones of her voice soothing him as he worked on into the night.   
"Solaaass.." came a little squeak some time later.  
"Yes, Inquisitor?" came a slightly chastised response.  
"Your ears are so pointy!" She mused. "Mine aren't so pointy, and I'm an elf too. Sera says you're more elf than us. S'Weird since she says she "ain't" an elf and I'm Dalish and your... something." Her words trailed off towards the end, her mind tiring already.  
"That depends entirely upon your idea of elvhen, _lethallan_. Now I suggest you get some sleep before that head of yours starts pounding." He returned to some notes in another book on his desk, and felt a shifting behind him. Lavellan padded up behind him, throwing her arms heavily over his shoulders.   
"I want to bite your pointy ears... I'm going to do it, ok?" She began nibbling down his left ear, and his nostrils flared in arousal. She was gently planting her lips on his neck when he remembered that she was in fact drunk and not in full control of herself. He pulled her arms from his shoulders and stood to face her, almost a full head taller than herself.  
"I would prefer you did not do such things, especially in your current state," he warned.  
She whimpered, reaching on her tiptoes to try and meet him at eye level. "You're no fun Solas, I'm not sleepy right now.." She craned her head towards him, rested her forehead on his breastbone, and yawned. Good, he thought, the alcohol is wearing off. He pulled her back towards the chaise and sat her down before sitting beside her.   
"I shall stay with you until you fall asleep, then I will continue my work, agreed?"  
She nodded quietly, eyes barely open, and thudded into his side. Just like that she was sleeping. He smiled at her happy features, brushing the loose hairs from her face and tracing the vallaslin that curved around her temples and over her rosy cheeks. Solas leaned back into the seat, resting her head on his chest, and relaxed his body and mind.   
" _Dareth eran'en, da'vhenan_."


End file.
